Finite Regress
by RouJoumis
Summary: -06/12 edited for typos etc., next ch. due within the week- Series of sequential oneshots from a rebooted version of the mirrorverse -or perhaps a mirror version of the reboot. Mostly pairing-free, with hints of Sp/Uh and oneway Su/Ch in later chapters.
1. Future's Prologue

Again he had failed. He had been failing for much of his life and now, as his damaged ship was reeled in by his waiting enemies, he was sure that failure would kill him.

A shudder ran through the deck as his ship settled in a massive cargo bay. He began limping for the hatch, bitter memories rising in his mind, unwanted companions. A long and profitable career, pushed aside by false ambitions. Predictions that had been just true enough to lead entire peoples into slavery. Miserable decades spent hiding and waiting for a second chance, only to find himself neither needed nor wanted. And now, his last hope of a future had been at stake, everything had been tied up in the slim chance that he could save Romulus and win their backing, and he had again found nothing but defeat. All because he had listened to one man, one arrogant human who had given him visions of a false future.

The ship's ramp opened and the once-Emperor Spock descended into judgement, silently cursing the name of James Tiberius Kirk.


	2. Spectrum of Absorption

Commander Spock found the aged vulcan cataloging supplies in a shuttle hanger. "Father," he began.

The other turned to face him, a flash of anger distorting severe features. "I am _not_ our father."

Younger Spock stared at his doubly-exiled doppleganger, fascinated and repelled. "You," he said. "The Future Spock. Why are you here? There is much you could be giving to the Empire."

The older Spock was again composed, controlled. "I cannot truly be called your 'future self', and there are several reasons why I must not share my knowledge with anyone. Recent events have greatly altered the flow of history. The future will not now proceed as it did for me. Any information I share would not, could not take into account the unforeseeable changes you will experience." He paused, tilted his head. "Also, this universe is not the same as my own. Other than the time disparity, it may have been completely identical to my own, continuing in exactly the same fashion, had there been no external interference - or it may not. It is impossible to know the exact level of congruence between our two universes. Perhaps places or events that I recall existing in one area of space are instead located in another, or not present at all.

"In short, any 'foreknowledge' I could offer would be flawed and untrustworthy, likely more dangerous to the Empire than no knowledge at all."

Spock frowned, stepping in close, leaning into the older man. "Those are not your real reasons. You could still share technology, or even the mere proof of parallel universes. Why do you hide yourself away? You have a duty to the Empire, wherever you may find it."

Narrowed eyes. A subtle tensing of muscles. The older Spock was not amused.

Finally he sighed, anger replaced with a bone-deep weariness. "You are correct," he admitted. "I have other reasons. I have spent many years in hiding; I do not wish to be trapped in a small laboratory for the rest of my life, being analyzed and interrogated by loyal servants of 'the mighty Terran Empire.'" A flash of bitterness. "I have given enough in service of that ideal. I have earned a rest from imperial duties."

With unexpected fury, Commander Spock grabbed his ancient counterpart. "You failed your Empire and _destroyed Vulcan._ Do you truly believe you have earned anything but agony? You will serve, 'Spock', and you will be useful to someone other than yourself, whether you choose it or not!"

A struggle then. Two bitter men become bitter enemies. A physical battle, hopeless for a frail old man; a mental battle, nowhere near as certain. Younger Spock fought to pierce Older Spock's shields, fury and pain driving him.

_ You cannot win,_ cried the older. _I have a century of experience that you do not. It is impossible for you to defeat my trained mind._

_ I will tear you down,_ insisted the younger, _for your mind is supported by your body, and mine will far outlast yours . ._

* * *

Kirk was looking in the shuttle hangers when he found his First Officer. The vulcan was sitting on the edge of a clutter of shipping crates, staring into space. He did not even seem to notice when Kirk swaggered up to him.

"Spock! I didn't expect to see you here. I don't suppose you've seen, ah, your 'other self?' I wanted to ask him some questions . . "

Spock slowly looked up at him. His eyes were bright, almost feverish. "Jim. . . Jim, I need your help. Will you help me?"

Suspicious - but possibly a chance to gain leverage over Spock. What better way to strengthen their alliance? "Of course, Spock. What do you need?"

He stood up and pulled Kirk behind a crate, revealing the crumpled form of the other Spock. The captain gasped and knelt by the body, groaning when he found no pulse.

"Spock, you killed him! Killed - you! Why did you do that?" Dammit, Spock was a useful ally, but this was stupid. "Do you realize the things he could have told us? The advantage we could have had?"

"That is why I did it," Spock said dully. "He refused to speak. This way . . this way is better." He turned to face him, disquietingly eager. "You must help me dispose of the body."

Kirk frowned, thinking. "You, me and Mr. Scott are the only ones in Starfleet that know about him . . if we're lucky, he hasn't talked to your father or family yet. One more missing vulcan - shouldn't be too hard. But Spock, how could you? We could have made him talk!"

Spock reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Kirk flinched away, frozen by the look in eyes that had become more alien than he could have imagined.

"It is best this way, Jim. The Empire needs us. Needs to be guided. You and I will shape it, balance it between weakness and waste, make it strong.

"We will lead it down the dark path, and we will be like gods . . "


	3. Distortion

"You can talk to me, you know."

Uhura crossed Spock's quarters, sitting on the bed beside him. He was lying on his side, nearly fetal, and did not react as she touched his hair. "You don't have to suffer in silence."

His voice was distant. "I am not suffering. I am merely recovering."

She frowned and lay down, lightly trailing her fingers along his shoulder. "You don't have to lie to me, Spock. I won't tell anyone about your 'weakness.'" She kissed the back of his neck. "Honestly, I expected it sooner. It's only natural to grieve over the death of your planet-"

He rolled over abruptly, capturing her hand. "This is not about Vulcan."

"Not about . . Spock, what else could there be?"

He stroked her cheek. "Would you like me to show you?"

Something in his expression felt _wrong_. She frowned up at him, but his hands moved lightning-quick and she was frozen.

His fingers were pressing on her face. His voice was hard, his eyes drawing her into himself. Fear spiked through her as he spoke. "My mind to your mind . . My thoughts to your thoughts . . " _Our minds are one, Nyota . . _

_she was withering under his stare the stare of a horrible ancient angry being that pressed and twisted and groaned beneath her as she wrapped around him holding him in devouring him slowly mantling his turbulent core that spread her too thin with the weight of his hates dreams memories straining to maintain control reason soul being all too much_

He let her go and she jerked back, bumping to a halt at the head of Spock's bunk. She stared. He reached out to her and she flinched away.

"You're mad," she whispered.

"I am not mad," he said. "I am simply . . strained . . by the effort of assimilating such a powerful mind. When it is done, I shall be quite normal, Nyota. Only much more powerful."

She shivered. "Spock . . "

"We will rule, beloved. Kirk and I are already planning the ways that we shall save the Empire. Join with us. I was once an Emperor; continue to be my consort. You will have everything you could desire, I promise it."

She could not look away. Slowly at first, then firmly, she took his hand.


	4. A Moment of Reflection

"So let me get this straight," said McCoy, frowning at the three people in front of him. "You're telling me that there's another universe, just like ours, but over a hundred years in the future, and Nero came from there."

"That is correct, Doctor," said Spock. It was the first time he'd spoken all evening; he had mostly listened, head bowed, seeming more than usually detached.

". . .right. And some old Spock came from there too, and he used to be the Emperor."

"You got it, Bones." Kirk smiled. He'd been doing all the explaining. To hear him talk, everything was perfectly logical and obvious.

"Okay. So there's this future-emperor-Spock, and _our_ Spock ripped his soul out and knows everything he knew, so now we can take over the Empire." McCoy snorted. "And you actually _believe_ any of this?"

"Bones, I met the other Spock. He's real. With his memories in Spock's head -"

"So what if he was real? How do we know that he was really an emperor? Or that he really knew as much as he said he did? For that matter, how do we know Spock's actually got his soul? _I_ never heard of anything like that, have you? Sounds crazy to me. If you ask me Spock's just finally gone 'round the bend. It's all in his head!"

"It really isn't, Doctor," Uhura said softly. She laid her hand on Spock's arm, staring at McCoy. "Trust me. It's all real." And she looked at him steadily, and he had to turn away.

He grumbled for a moment more, then turned to the man beside him. "And you! You say you _knew_ about all this?"

"Oh, aye," said Scott. "Well – that is, I knew that there was some vulcan from the future, but I dinnae know that he was our Mr. Spock. Uh, or that he was some emperor. Uh, nor that the commander had eaten his brains, neither-"

"I did not _eat_ his _brain_, Mr. Scott. I simply removed his katra."

"-aye, that. But, uh, I believe it. Makes sense enough to me." He shrugged. "If th' Captain says it's so, it's so."

McCoy scowled and stared at the floor for a few seconds. He sighed. "All right. Suppose it's true. Why tell us? Scott and I, we're not in the command track. We're not exactly powerful friends to make on your rise to power."

Kirk grinned smugly. "Ah, but you are. Spock and I may have plans for the admiralty and the Empire, but we have to start on this ship. We'll be carefully shaping our missions, using our rewards. . It'll be a lot easier to do that if we have the department heads backing us up. A few extra requests here, a few altered reports there . . a chance to model some of the new policies we want to introduce . ." He shrugged. "Something this big, Bones, I really don't want you working against me."

McCoy was quiet, mulling all of this over. Scott took advantage of the pause to ask, "Er, what I'd like to know is, what's in it for us?"

"Why, Scotty! I'm surprised you have to ask!" The captain spread his hands wide. "If you help me, you'll have my help in return. You'll be able to run your departments without interference from some nosy bureaucrat . . or having to worry about ambitious underlings. You'll get an extra share of the plunder from all of our missions, completely off the records. And once we rule the Empire . . ? Why you'll get whatever you want, of course. The best lab in Starfleet, with no oversight? All yours. A permanent post on the most advanced ship in the fleet? You got it. The hardest part will be making up your mind." He turned to the doctor. "Imagine it, Bones. Anything you want. Any _one_ you want. And all you have to do is sit back and let us work.

"Are you in?"

Scott and McCoy looked at each other for a long, silent moment. Then the engineer turned back to Kirk, Spock and Uhura. "Aye. I'm in."

McCoy sighed. "You better be right about this, Jim."

"Great! You won't regret it." He stood up, grabbed a bottle and glasses from a cabinet. "This calls for a celebration!" He passed drinks around.

McCoy frowned as he took his glass, thoughtfully swirling the alcohol in his glass. "Are you going to tell anyone else about this?"

"I thought we might invite Sulu and Chekov to join us, once we're sure they can be trusted. With them, we'll have enough of the departments covered that the whole ship will be ours." Kirk smiled, raised his glass. "Everyone else? Well, they'll just have to wait and see what happens."

Uhura raised her glass as well, but in a toast. "To opportunity."

"Aye," said Scott, and the others joined in:

"To opportunity."


	5. Silver Lining

Commander Scott dragged the struggling lieutenant into Main Engineering, one thick arm around the man's neck. He was met with a startled curse and wide eyes as he shoved his victim against a wall. "Well, don't just stand there!" he bellowed. "Get everyone in here, now! An someone call security, we'll be needing a pair o' their men before long."

While he waited for the rest of his crew to be rounded up, Scott fought to get his anger under control. He know what he very much wanted to do to the man in front of him, and he was sure it'd even improve discipline. But somehow he doubted the captain would approve. His new 'waste not' philosophy meant no killing anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sometimes Jim's idea of 'necessary' didn't agree with Scott's temper.

Before long, the entire on-shift engineering crew was assembled, with two bemused security men standing nearby. Scott eased up on the lieutenant, who sagged limply against the wall.

"Well," Scott bit out, "at least some o' ye can follow orders."

His men shifted nervously, but were silent.

"Our Mr. Okuda, here, was scheduled for monitorin' fluctuations in th' K-12 tachyon receptors. Instead, he decided to nap off his hangover in one o' th' Jeffries' tubes."

He paced before them, looking pointedly from one crewman to the next. "Now, I'm a reasonable man. I know that none o' ye are geniuses like meself. So if one o' ye makes a mistake, even an especially daft one, I willnae punish ye for it. Agonizers have nae place on th' Engineering deck. I'll have some mighty fierce words for ye, aye, but I willnae blame ye for trying yer best."

He scowled and stalked towards the unfortunate Okuda. "But this man – this gormless pish-artist _bawbag_-" He stopped, forced himself to take a deep breath.

"_This_ man . . he dinnae even try. This man thought his own wants more important than attendin' to the' ship. This man is a _shirker_." He drew his dagger. "And I _will nae tolerate_ shirkers."

The security men started to look interested. Okuda shrank back, babbling. "Please, Mr. Scott! Please – don't -"

"What this man deserves," Scott said expressionlessly, "is nae less than a blade in his heart." The dagger hovered close to the lieutenant's chest, only a short thrust away from killing him. "I wouldn'a even bother with a slow death – the sooner gone the better, for trash such as him."

He let the knife-point rest against the man's shirt for a moment more – then abruptly, without changing expression, he sheathed his weapon. The guards looked disappointed and Okuda sank to the floor with a shudder.

Scott continued in a casual tone, as if nothing had happened. "Th' Captain is awful picky about dead crewmen, though. Seems they're a dreadful lot of paperwork. And seein' as how he thinks this is actually his ship, tis best to humor him.

"So here's what I'll do.

"I'll send Mr. Okuda here off wi' these fine men for a little stay in th' Agony Booth. I'll tell th' Captain how he was derelict in duties, and he can assign him to a more fittin' position. Scrubbin' th' heads, perhaps, or cleanin' the' laundry filters by hand. Testin' th' airlocks wi'out a suit, if I'm lucky."

He stepped closer to his crew. "Understand me. Do your best for this ship and I'll turn ye into th' finest damn engineers in th' Fleet. Do less than your best for her, and ye'll be joinin' our friend Mr. Okuda. That's assumin' o'course, that I haven't changed th' Captain's mind by then about my methods." He paused. "I'm sure I dinnae need to tell ye that if I catch any of ye actually _harmin'_ me ship, I willnae be waitin' for th' Captain."

He looked around, saw only serious faces, and nodded. "Well, go on then. Back to work wi' th' lot o' ye!"

The group dispersed as he grabbed Okuda and handed him off to the security team. He trailed them out into the corridor, turning towards the next-nearest turbolift as they carried on to the brig. He started the lift towards the officer quarters, fighting the uncharacteristic urge to brood.

This would all have been simpler if he could have just killed the man. On any other ship, he would have done just that. But Jim was convinced that treating people well was better for the ship in the long run, and Scott wasn't going to fight with him about it.

He even wondered if perhaps the captain was right.

This ship was in excellent condition, despite all the scrapes Jim kept getting her into. She was well-crewed and well-maintained – a sleek, healthy creature. And this was the longest Scott had kept any one crew together, and they were starting to show drastic improvement in their skills – which was probably why the ship was doing so well.

He laid his hand on the lift wall, feeling the hum and rumble of a thousand ship's systems. He would almost swear that the ship sounded happy.

Maybe there was something to all this 'restraint' and 'enlightened self-interest' malarkey after all.

* * *

_A/N: Many thanks to Mytsie for help with insults and technobabble_


End file.
